Be Your Downfall
by signedwithagoldstar
Summary: It's not a secret that Quinn is the prettiest girl Rachel's ever seen, and Rachel is more driven than anyone at McKinley. What happens when Rachel uses that attitude to get what she wants most? But what - or who - may that be? Faberry/Pezberry/Brittana.
1. Who are we to turn each other's heads?

_a/n: this is my first fanfiction ever, so let's see where this goes? I hope you all like it. It's inspired by a lot of Ellie Goulding... and of course I do not own her or anything glee related._

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><p>The day Rachel Berry auditioned for the Cheerios was the most nerve-wracking day of her life. Technically speaking, it was a simple tryout to most. This starry-eyed girl saw things differently to begin with; but after that day absolutely everything changed. For one, it started making her question some things about herself. Rachel wasn't ready to process <em>that<em> yet, though.

Everyone knows that you can't be successful in show business without a lot of self-control. Maybe she was simply making excuses, but this was simple reassurance in her mind. Her motivation to audition had been inspired by none other than Kim Kardashian. Rachel Berry had realized that times were changing, and she needed to keep her options open. Spontaneity and sex appeal were the bread and butter in Hollywood these days. As a 15 year old about to start sophomore year, she knew that her time was running out, and she needed to make her mark. High school was a dry run for life, right? Since Plan A had failed her, it was time to bite the bullet and go for Plan B. What better way to gain exposure than be a Cheerio?

At the age of three, dance competitions were a once a month – at least – occurrence in the petite toddler's life. She grew up in that circuit, as well as singing competitions, and pageants. It reached the point where by the time she was in middle school, she considered a lot of local judges to be like extended family. The world was much smaller on stage, after all. Sure, being so close with the judges only opened up doors to connections for Rachel. When she went to Regionals and Nationals for dance, she placed. That was impressive to her other 13 and 14 year old friends at the time.

Then junior high came, and the sad realization that dancing to show tunes and belting our Barbra Streisand simply wasn't cool anymore. No one cared about that stuff, even if Rachel was still bringing home a trophy or tiara from everything she competed in.

Freshman year had flown by in a monotonous blur. On the first day of school, there had been hope behind the brunette's smile. Like a good actress, she'd managed to keep the smile plastered on even when it had no reason to be there anymore. Between Sandy Ryerson's pathetic excuse of a method for teaching music, and making no friends, the first year was something Rachel almost completely erased from her memory. The little bit left over was there only because she knew she couldn't leave an entire year unexplained in her future NY Times best seller of an autobiography.

There was one memory – actually multiple pieces rolled into one picture – which Rachel would die before admitting. It was far too personal, even to share with her two gay dads. Maybe that's why it kept popping up when she couldn't control it. All Rachel knew was that there were more nights than she could justify as trivial distraction or jealousy where she had dreamed about two of her classmates. One was a very beautiful blonde, the other a very hot brunette.

In her dreams, Rachel's mind seemed to be almost more fascinated with the place their red Cheerios uniforms stopped on their thighs than with their faces.

During that year, Rachel Berry simple resolved that she needed to watch Funny Girl more often, and that the lack of a suitable guy worthy of her talent was making her delusional from shock.

Because she was talented, telling herself lies was all too easy.

So it was under that very same pretense of delusion that on the last day of freshman year, Rachel walked into the gym at McKinley High with a red ribbon tied around her ponytail, a white tank top with red hearts, red shorts, and a smile so optimistic – _and genetic_ – it could cure cancer.

Learning the routines, sidelines, and cheers was surprisingly easy. A few of the girls that had been on the squad had given Rachel a few looks. It was hard for the brunette to notice, because she was watching the beautiful blonde Quinn Fabray intently the entire time. At one point during tryouts, the third blonde on Quinn and Santana's crew had walked up to her and asked:

**"Don't you have a Myspace video to upload in an hour? Or did your singing finally get the Alien's attention?"**

Rachel, somewhat too enthralled with the way Quinn's cheer uniform fit her perfectly, opened her mouth to reply but wasn't fast enough.

**"Or did the Aliens steal your laptop too?" **The look on B's face was dead serious, she was genuinely concerned.

At that moment, the brunette who also appeared in Rachel's dreams – _not as much as Quinn, but definitely enough_ – walked over to them.

**"C'mon Britt, Coach Sylvester will be back any minute. She wants to see us doing the cheers, not talking to fatties,"** she directed a very pointed look at Rachel, **"who won't even make the team."**

Santana linked pinkies with Brittany. The two turned to walk away, casually talking about how they just knew they wouldn't be on Junior Varsity again this year.

Several emotions snapped within Rachel Berry's head at that moment. Mostly, she wondered how someone as beautiful as Quinn could possibly be so close with such a dumb girl like Brittany, and such a bitch like Santana. It also bothered her how close the two sidekicks were. Now that she thought about it, Brittany was hot too, just not in a way that attracted her. Rachel wondered that if she was sexier she would have a chance to link pinkies with Santana too; and if that would get Q's attention.

And then it hit her.

By the end of tryouts, Rachel Berry was dripping in sweat. She had been right, and so had Santana and Brittany. As the short brunette looked up at the results board, her large eyes expanded to the size of saucers. There, on the part of the list headed 'Winners' was her name. Another second of observation lead to the realization that not only had she made the team, but she had made Varsity, along with three other soon to be sophomores: The Real – Life Powerpuff Girls. Two of which, were quite literally the girls of her dreams.

Suddenly, surprisingly cool skin brushed against her clammy arm. Goosebumps rose along with the hair on the back of her next as she realized who was standing next to her.

**"Looks like those man hands are good for something, Rupaul,"** Santana sneered.

Brittany tried to hide her laugh by pressing her face into the Latina's shoulder.

**"Yeah, I could hear your clapping from across the gym."** Brittany looked up and wrinkled her nose. The two peas in a pod wrapped their arms around each other's waists, laughing at Rachel one last time before heading to the showers. Both of them wondered the same thing: _how the hell had the crazy hobbit with a Myspace schedule filled to the brim with daily updates of songs so old, they would have depressed the residents in Lima's nursing home, managed to make the Cheerios, let alone Varsity?_ Santana knew she was one of the best tumblers on the team, Brittany one of the best dancers. Even though Santana would never admit this out loud, she also knew that her other 'best friend' Quinn was prettier than her. Together they made The Unholy Trinity; but even that hadn't been enough to spare them from having to work their asses off freshman year to get off JV a year earlier than everyone else.

_But Rachel fucking Berry?_

Santana and Brittany were somewhat shocked, but mostly offended. Those emotions were short lived though. Since most of the girls who tried out had been cut, the locker room was relatively empty by the time they got there. Once the two climbed into a shower together, they weren't thinking about Varsity or cheerleading in the least.

And then there were two left in the gym.

During the exchange with Santana and Britt, a certain very pretty blonde hadn't said a single word, or left Rachel's side. Somewhat awestruck, Rachel had been frozen in place until yin and yang left. Then she began to panic and – _what do you say to someone you dream about all the time? What do you say to a girl that you idolize? What do you say when you know that girl is in fact dating a football player named Finn Hudson? Or when you're not even sure why any of that is relevant at all?_ – She walked over to the bleachers to stretch her hamstrings and calves. Even in this confused state, the little soon-to-be-star knew she couldn't let her emotions stop her from attending to her rigorous standards and procedure for after working out. If she didn't stretch, she would bulk up; and seeing as how she wasn't training to be an Olympic gymnast, that would be a very bad look for the tabloids.

Time stood still as Rachel sat on the gymnasium floor, reaching forward further to stretch her lower back. Though the brunette didn't realize it, she looked absolutely adorable with that giant Minnie mouse ribbon around her now messy chocolate brown ponytail.

At least Quinn thought so.

Rachel may or may not have also been showing off a little. Hell, she hadn't dealt with years of a crazy ballet teacher from Russia insulting her stubby legs and pushing her flexibility beyond sane limits for nothing. A small smile danced across Rachel's face at the memories and she stood up from her stretch. It wasn't until she had risen to two feet that she noticed Quinn Fabray was still in the gym. Like a dear in headlights, the brunette froze when she also noticed that the blonde seemed to be… returning her smile?

Everyone, from freshman to seniors, knew about the tradition that had developed that year of the Cheerios leaving mean comments on Rachel's Myspace page after she posted a new daily video. Most of the comments made about as much sense as Sue Sylvester's tirades about gallstones, but there was one particular cheerleader that even scared some of the seniors with her malice and sarcasm. And that cheerleader had now walked face to face with Rachel Barbra Berry, and placed a cool hand on her warm shoulder.

Before she could stop herself, Rachel was talking a mile a minute.

**"Look, Quinn. I can tell Coach Sylvester I don't want to be on the team or I can transfer schools or go for the golf team instead! Just, if you're going to punch me please don't hit my nose? Because then I might have to get a nose job, and that would mean I wouldn't be staying true to my Jewish roots like my idol Barbra Streisand, you know. Or it could ruin my singing voice…"** Rachel was cut off by the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard. And that was saying something coming from her.

Quinn's laughter.

It was soft and sweet, just like her hair, and skin, and what Rachel imagined that space under her Cheerios skirt must feel like. _Oh gosh, what is wrong with me?_ Rachel wondered, feeling heat rise to her cheeks as if she was afraid Quinn could read minds or something. Then the already pretty face in front of her turned breathtaking as it smiled again.

**"Look Rach – I mean –_ Berry_,"** she murmured, tilting her head to one side and staring down straight into the petite talented girl's eyes. **"Maybe,"** Quinn's voice somehow seemed gentle and Rachel saw her life flash before her eyes, thinking of the predator vs. prey videos the watched in Biology, **"you should save all of that babbling for all of the cheers we're going to learn this year. If you want to keep singing and cheer, you're going to need your voice, you know?"**

Had Rachel been transported into The Twilight Zone or something? In what parallel universe did people like Quinn FafuckingBray give people like her genuine advice? Her guard was still up, but the brunette felt less threatened than moments before. She tried to speak, and couldn't find words.

**"I… uh,"** Rachel wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. She was ruining the one chance at impressing Quinn without anyone around.

Pulling her blonde curls out of the confines of her perfect ponytail – she noted that someday, she'd have to teach Rachel how style her hair the Cheerios way – Quinn removed her other hand off of Rachel's shoulder.

She laughed again, louder this time.

**"Congratulations, Berry."** And with that, her grin morphed into the brooding expression she wore so well, and she turned on her heel and walked towards the locker room. Her skirt swayed from side to side, pushed by Quinn's extra movement in her hips. She was strutting. All the way out the gym doors.

And then there was one.

Rachel Berry wasn't sure, but she seemed to suddenly have forgotten how to breathe.

Or think coherently.

All she knew was that her cheeks were suddenly aching, and she was smiling so big that her eyes fluttered shut until she was able to inhale and exhale again.


	2. I feel like I'm on fire

_a/n: I know where this is going, but I want reactions first. Glee is not my property, neither is Celine Dion. this is a shorter chapter. I want you all to get to know my version of Quinn and Rachel a little bit better.  
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><p>"<strong>Quinnie! You look like you worked hard today."<strong>

Judy Fabray reached out and rested one hand on her daughter's waist, not even trying to hide the fact that she was evaluating her youngest child's body. Sometimes the oldest Fabray woman had to catch herself. On one hand, she was so incredibly proud of her baby girl. One of the most obvious unwritten rules of parenting was that you had to be supportive of your kids, no matter what. Judy would be lying if she pretended like Quinn's physical transformation between junior high and her first day of freshman year didn't please her. This past year had been the cherry on top. Judy thought Cheerios was the best thing to happen to Quinn. With all of the exercise and commitment, she had lost even more weight and became more assertive and strong. To her mom, she was like the spitting image of her teenage self.

"**Mom,"** Quinn hesitated, suddenly nervous. She was stressing out about the upcoming season, and summer cheerleading practices hadn't even started. Biting her lip, she saw her reflection in the dining room mirror. _What if Coach Sylvester realizes I'm too fat and kicks me off? _

Suddenly, the expression on Mrs. Fabray's face changed. Another unwritten rule of parenting was to not be obviously judgmental. Apparently, subtly hadn't been passed on to Judy. She couldn't help it though! The look on her daughter's face worried her, and jumping to negative conclusions was her biggest flaw. What if her baby hadn't made the cut this year? High school hadn't been that long ago in Judy-Land, and she liked to think that she remembered it like yesterday. Granted, her delusions of grandeur meant a lot of her memories were off track in the least. Getting her Senior Prom Queen crown was the only one hundred percent real moment that she'd never forget. Cheerleading had been something Judy did back then, and she liked to think that this gave her a solid understanding of how high school worked. If her daughter had failed at making the team, then that would mean she wasn't on the road to following in her mother's footsteps at all. Judy lightly pinched her daughter's waist before walking away to the kitchen.

Quinn had her arms crossed over her stomach, and she was still frowning at her reflection when Judy returned with her first of many nightly glasses of Merlot. Panicking slightly, she tossed the glass back and drained it in one go. Something spiteful briefly flashed in her daughter's eyes as she turned around, but by the time Mrs. Fabray was paying attention again, all she saw was the giant smile on Quinn's face.

"**I made the team." **

At that moment, Russel Fabray walked through the front door. Like a moth drawn to a flame, his wife fluttered to his side and took his hand, walking him to the couch. In seconds Judy was on her knees, untying his shoes and talking about how she should go finish dinner. Usually at times like this, Quinn would get a feeling in the pit of her stomach – revulsion – that made her feel angry and sick all at once. There was nothing that she hated more than seeing her mom reduce herself to _that. _Directing her attention back to her body and the mirror, she found herself pinching the skin where her uniform met on the sides. Even though her mom was as good as gone now that her dad was home, and Russel hadn't spoken to his obviously unhappy daughter who was right in front of him, the words were out of her mouth before she really took time to think.

"**Actually, I made Varsity. I don't feel well though, I think I should go to bed." **

An entire week of not eating dinner had passed, and still, her parents were too wrapped up in themselves. _Figures._ Mr. Fabray patted his daughter's back as she walked by. He didn't even wait for Quinn to leave the room before turning to his wife and telling her to go get him some of the expensive wine like Syrah. Of course he wanted to "celebrate" even though his youngest daughter wasn't even eating with the family. Again. Before she reached her room, she stopped to look at the pictures of her big sister Frannie on the walls. It wasn't until she heard her mom's footsteps that she quickly went into her room, pulling the door shut behind her. Times like these, Quinn Fabray found the she wished she could just be invisible.

If her family actually couldn't see her, it would probably hurt less.

Tears brimming in her eyes, Quinn reached for her laptop and logged on to Myspace. A certain update caught her attention, and exactly five minutes later, Quinn was in shock. She buried her face in her pillow, and sobbed. _Everything is too much._

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><p>For the first time in almost a year, Rachel Berry was doing something other than baking vegan cookies on a Friday night. Granted, listening to Celine Dion's 'A New Day Has Come' album on loop didn't exactly give her any cool points either. Baking was something the brunette enjoyed; usually it also was her way to deal with sadness. That wasn't the major emotion of the day though, so she'd decided the cookies could wait.<p>

Actually, the emotion of the day was confused. _How could I have been such an airhead earlier? _Rachel Berry asked herself that question every time she thought about her day at tryouts. Right now, Celine Dion's appeal was less about her talent and more about distracting Rachel from the jumbled thoughts in her head. Until she could make sense of her feelings, thinking about them was the last thing Rachel wanted to do.

So she decided to sing.

Two days had passed since she uploaded to Myspace. On Thursday night, she had been too busy doing crunches and frantically stretching. Her nerves had been too intense to even be inspiration for artistic expression. She'd uncharacteristically found an excuse again today, even after she found out she made the team. Motivation suddenly kicked in, and the tiny brunette grabbed her laptop and bounced out her room, down the stairs, and into the back yard. She suddenly knew what song from that album she was going to sing.

"_Oh oh mmm_

_There's so much life I've left to live_  
><em>And this fire's burning still<em>  
><em>When I watch you look at me<em>  
><em>I think I could find the will<em>  
><em>To stand for every dream<em>  
><em>And forsake the solid ground<em>  
><em>And give up this fear within<em>  
><em>Of what would happen if they ever knew<em>  
><em>I'm in love with you."<em>

Things were really starting to feel like an alternate universe to Rachel. Out of all the song she'd ever uploaded, this had been the first one that felt ready after just one take. Everything about this video was different. Instead of having her bedroom as a backdrop – Santanta once commented that her room looked like a pile of Build-A-Bear Workshop and Club Libby Lu vomit – she had the beautiful garden her dad Hiram was responsible for. Another thing about this video was different too. Rachel wasn't staring into the camera the entire time, crying fake tears. Instead, she'd genuinely zoned out while singing something that felt too real. Her focus had been on the garden, her hands running over the flowers as she slowly walked around. Rachel cut out the parts where she pressed play and stop, and updated her profile.

Almost three hours later, Rachel still hadn't received any notifications of comments. She was now back up in her room, laying on the bed in silence. Suddenly her phone started vibrating. She picked up just in time to keep it from going to voicemail. Once again, she was at a loss for words.

"**Hi, Rachel?"**

There was no doubt in the girl's mind of who that voice belonged to, but there was something off about it. Something that sounded really upset.

Never mind that she had no idea how the person on the end had her number; Rachel figured that it must have been one of the countless perks of being one of the youngest but most powerful girls in school.

"**Quinn." **It was neither a question nor a statement.

"**Uh – Listen. I think," **Rachel could slowly hear the power and normalcy returning to Quinn Fabray's voice. She sounded like she wanted something, something that she didn't like wanting but knew she'd get. **"We should talk." **The ambiguous non-question and non-statement ball had just been bounced back.

Rachel stuttered. **"O-okay? My…" **

"**Your dads are out of town," **the prettier girl cut her off.

_How does she know that? _

"**They are…" **

"**Good. Can I come over?" **

"**Um, of course?" **Not that saying no to Quinn was possible.

"**Great." **

_Great?_

"**I'll be there in an hour or so." **

The phone clicked shortly after, but not before Rachel realized that had been her most recent video playing in the background the entire time.


End file.
